HIATUS Saved for the Second Time
by freeflymore
Summary: HIATUS- "His mouth opened, as if he were going to try to argue. But it shut again. I was the injured one, the damaged one, the broken one. He wouldn't argue with me." (Saved From the Kiss of Death sequel)


Chapter One

**BPOV**

You never realize the most important things in life until you experience the few moments before you look death in the eyes. Until then, you never see how amazing it is to have a family, people who love you, and care about you no matter what. You never understand how great it is to have friends, especially the kind that has your back and follows you on your path of stupidity and picks you up when you're down. You always take for granted your life and the things you're given, as if it were you're right to have those things. Having a boyfriend was not something ingrained into every person's life. Having two amazing best friends was luckier than most people. Living with an understanding father who loves you and lets you live your life is incredible. Until I was locked in that trunk, I had no idea how crazy I was to think that I was some drooping flower when I stood next to Alice and Rose. Until I was in that trunk, I couldn't understand how Edward could possibly want to be with me when any other girl would be drooling at his feet. Until I was gasping my last breaths, knowing that the last time I would be happy was only hours before being locked in a trunk. Until then, I never realized how precious life was and how lucky I was to be living my life.

Looking back on those hours in the trunk, I feel my body quivering from just the thought of being back in that trunk. Amazingly, I had made it out of the trunk alive and survived even to the next day. I even survived the next couple of weeks, being locked in a storage room, tied to a very uncomfortable, very stiff, wooden chair and blindfolded. I somehow, lived through the hours on end, listening to Jacob's menacing voice. Blindfolded, I couldn't see anything, leaving his words to bounce around my head, wearing down my defenses and eating at me from the inside out. My hope that someone would find me was diminishing as each day passed by, and Jacob made sure I knew exactly what day it was and how long I had been held captive.

It was after the first week and a half passed when he started coming to me, pulling down my panties and raping me. He came whenever he had the inclination to relieve himself and took his time. Whispering that I had been a bad girl when I ignored him. Saying that I needed to be punished. I heard the same phrases over and over again, so many times, that I began to believe them myself. Scolding myself about leaving him hanging, that it was a horrible thing to make him have to take action.

"Bells," his slimy voice would say, "laugh for me. I wanna hear the bells."

"NO!" I would scream, not realizing how long it had been since I had water. My voice scratched at the back of my throat and left my mouth dry. It felt like I was a fish drowning in oxygen. Gasping to be released back into the water.

"You're not very good at listening, Bella," he would ooze. "I think I might have to start punishing you. And you know, you're going to like it this time."

"I won't!" I tried to yell. My voice was failing me and my knees shook as he pried them apart. Once my legs were spread as far as he wanted them, he pulled the chair, by the legs, towards him. Scrape. The noise was awful and filled my ears with a screeching noise. Like nails on a chalkboard.

My pants had already been removed. The only thing that kept me was the thin layer of cotton panties. I felt him reach out. His hand rested on the back of my head, caressing my head. I sat up, stock still, stonily staring in his direction through the blindfold. I felt him lean forward. Pursing my lips, I felt his mouth over mine. It was hot and wet. His tongue darted out and forced my mouth open. Trying desperately to push his tongue out with my own, I realized what a mistake I had made. Jacob had interpreted my attempts to force him back out as my consent to his kiss. Roughly, his tongue flicked around the far corners of my mouth, going so far back in my throat, I nearly gagged.

Pulling back, he studied me, looking for any signs of weakness. He didn't find any. Pulling the chair even closer to him, I could feel his body flush with mine, and he was directly between my legs. Sliding his hand down my neck, over my shoulder, and down the curve of the side of my breast, he reached the hem of my shirt and pulled it up. Realizing that I was tied to the chair and that the shirt would not come off without untying me, he ripped my shirt down the center and pulled the pieces off me. Exposed to him in only my bra and panties and blindfolded, I began to whimper. I knew that I had no chance to escape my fate and prepared myself for the worst.

Roughly, his mouth came crashing back down onto mine. For the slightest flicker of a moment, the passion of the kiss tricked my brain into thinking it was Edward who was ravaging me; this was all just some kinky sex scene where I was the victim and he was my captor. I opened my eyes with hope, but all I found was the dark inside of the blindfold staring back at me. Among all of Jacob's crazed movements, the blindfold had slid down an inch, the tips of my upper lashes, peeking over the crease of the fabric. I could almost see. Fuck, I didn't want to see the ugly face that was torturing me, or the hairy arms that confined me, or the searing ropes that held me to the chair. The momentary drop of my guard had emboldened him and his tongue lithely slipped through my lips, caressing each and every corner of my mouth, tempting me into submission. Disgusted with myself and the glimmer of weakness that I had exposed, I bit his searching tongue. Hard. He yelped, pain clearly etched on his face. Sticking out his tongue, he assessed the damage. Satisfied that he would not require an amputation, he turned back to me, anger, hatred, and even hurt, flashed through his glistening, pitch-black eyes.

"You have been very naughty, Isabella," he growled.

"I'm sorry, you must have me confused with someone else. My name's Bella," I countered. Edward, and only Edward, was allowed to call me Isabella and get away with it. Too consumed with my own thoughts of self-hatred, I didn't see his arm flash and his hand whip up towards my face. The stinging imprint left from his open hand had probably left a mark on my face; the first of many scars he would leave on me, physically and emotionally.

"Isabella. I didn't want to hurt you, but you leave me no choice. After that little stunt, I have to punish you, but you're going to take it with a smile and you are going to like it," he purred, as his fingers traced down my temple and curled a stray hair behind my ear. His hands ghosted down my sides and landed on the rope that wrapped around me and chair threefold; they began untying and unwrapping. My body tensed, waiting for the ropes to fall loose, giving me a moment's chance at escape. Alas, no chance appeared, seeing as my hands were still tied together behind the back of the chair. Damnit.

He lifted me off of the chair and threw me over his shoulder. Now, the sudden jerking of my body had allowed the blindfold to slip out of place and down my face. I could see. "No," I cried, "no, no, no! Edward!" Tears were streaming down my face. I had saved myself for the one, and now, I was going to be lost to this monster, this traitor. Jacob had once been my friend, my best friend. That ship had sailed long ago, and now, my knight in shining armor wasn't coming, and if he did, he'd be too late. Once I was touched by this bastard, there was no way Edward could ever want me again, and if he did, I would only disgust myself. Edward had to be coming, there was no way I would survive if he didn't find me. I would either be stuck in this place with this mutt and die inside every day of confinement, or Jacob would kill me when he was finished. A rough slap on my ass pulled me out of my self-pitying and wallowing in despair. Only then did I notice that Jacob had tied me, face down to a table; my hands wrapped, in rope, to the legs.

Swatting my ass again, he forced my torso down, onto the table; my cheek pressed against the cool surface; my hot breath fanned across the table, leaving foggy clouds where the two touched. Without warning, he shoved my panties aside and dove right in. His thickness pushed past all barriers, causing me to cry out in pain. Yet, he was relentless and kept plowing through me. In. Out. In. Out. He didn't stop, not once, until he finally released inside me. Thankfully, he had snapped on a condom beforehand and hadn't taken off my panties, or else, I would have been left exposed in only my natural skin for all of Jacob's pleasure.

"Bella," a gruff voice called to me. Willing my eyes not to open, I hoped that the voice would go away. It called my name again and I did my best to shy away from it; get as far away as possible. It kept calling my name and teasing me with a life I knew was impossible. Why wouldn't it just go away? What the fuck? It's poking me now? Really?

"What?" I shouted at the voice.

"Bella, wake up, it's only a nightmare," it soothed. What the fuck did it know? "Only a nightmare"? I don't think so. I can't take this shit.

"Edward, just go away," I murmured.

"No, I won't leave you Bella. I'll never leave you."

"Edward," I didn't want to have to do this. I didn't want it to come down to this. To much had happened in the last two years, yet too little. I needed air, I needed something new. I needed to get away from him. I needed to get away from Edward. Every time I looked at his beautiful face, there would always be that familiar crease in the corners of his eyes. That crease that I put there. If he never met me, this wouldn't have happened. If he never met me, he wouldn't have to suffer. I wouldn't have to see that pained look in his eyes. I wouldn't have to hold onto him like he would slip away at any moment. Because my past, so tragic, so painful, so… Dangerous. He would never look at me the same way again. I would always be damaged. "You need to leave."

His mouth opened, as if he were going to try to argue. But it shut again. I was the injured one, the damaged one, the broken one. He wouldn't argue with me. With another one of those crushed crinkles to his forehead, he slowly turned and shuffled out of the room like a sick pup. It was horrible of me, but it had to be done. If I was ever to move on, Edward would need to leave my life. I would need to move on. I would have to move on. I had to get away.

* * *

**IPOV**

Hi, I'm Izzy and this is my story. After the wake-up call in the hospital those many years ago, I left Forks and moved east. I soon found my footing at TCNJ the next fall and started a new chapter in my life. Goodbye old life. I can't say that my goodbye to Charlie didn't crush him or affect him in any way at all, but it was all for the best. We weren't too close, and he was happy to see that I was moving on and didn't spend the rest of my life moping around the house and feeling sorry for myself. But I figured that if I was to end up a pathetic introvert, I might as well do it somewhere private, say a college dorm? At least then I would be able to pursue my goal to become an english teacher while being a totally self-pitying loser.

The only people that still call me Bella are Alice and Rosalie. Yes, I still kept in touch with them.. About once or twice a month we would send a few emails back and forth, but no more than that. While I moved as far away as possible, they remained local. But I never spoke to Edward, Jasper, or Emmett again. These days, I never really spoke to anyone. I mostly stayed away from the male sex in general, but I didn't really have that many friends here. Yes, I found my footing, but did that really mean I had to talk to people to do so?

Alright, I admit, I had a few friends East side in Jersey, but not many. The closest were Ellie, Sarah, Tommy, and Carrie. Ellie had been my first friend upon arrival in New Brunswick. She was also in my first year, freshman English 101 compositions class, along with Tommy. Although our different schedules didn't leave us much time to hang out, but I leaned on her more than she even knew. She was my life support and I wouldn't know what to do without her and those delicious, midnight hot chocolates. And despite her intensely serious love for history, she spent her free time sneaking around campus for late-night creeping.

Tommy was Sarah's older brother and immediately adopted me as his younger sister. He wasn't exactly the sensitive, artistic writer that I had hoped he was when we met in our compositions class. In fact, he was quite the opposite. One of the top, newly-recruited rugby players, he had to take the compositions class as a requirement. Yet his rough-and-tumble, athletic exterior did nothing to deter his fun-loving personality. He was rather like his sister, and she was quite the spitfire. Probably one of the craziest girls I've met, she's rowdy, promiscuous, and the best dancer I have ever met.

And then there was Carrie. She was… different. She had a thing for goth. I would say she's pretty close to Abby from NCIS, down to the weird love for all things animal and forensic. She must have watched one too many episodes in her childhood since she's pretty much an Abby look-alike. Although, her natural blonde hair is dyed sleek black (no lie, that's what the box said) so they are not quite the same. The biggest difference is Carrie's demeanor. Instead of the stubborn, self-assertive, quick-talking forensic scientist, Carrie is more of a lab rat and keeps to herself and just takes what she can get. In this sense, she's very similar to myself. It takes all of Tommy, Sarah, and Ellie's willpower to get either of us out of our dorms.

Personally, I would rather mope around my room and read my sinfully trashy romance novels. Specifically, historical romance novels. But I would never admit that to Ellie, or else she would take every moment possible to chastise me about the holes and incongruity of romance novels and how the heroine never truly ends up with the love of her life. Yet, I can't resist. When you're eighteen and have unintelligently sworn off men because of a chance run-in with an ex-boyfriend who just happens to be a kidnapping rapist, I think you should be allowed to read trashy roman novels, no matter how fictional they are. Besides, it's not like I'll be able to get off from Jane Austen, or Dickens, or any other classic that my English professors have us read. And I absolutely refuse to stoop to watching porn because that's just… not right. Plus, my tell-tale blush would be permanently pasted on my cheeks and I would never hear the end of it.

Anyways, the point is, moving to Jersey was my chance to start fresh. A new life, a new person, and a new name. As Izzy, I was more outgoing, more adventurous, but also more secretive. My new friends didn't know about Jacob. Or Edward. I wasn't going to tell them and I didn't plan on it. All they knew was something in my past led me to avoid men and that it was very, very personal and ruinous. But they were such sweet friends, they never asked.

Unfortunately, it was not to last. Well, okay, maybe not that dramatic, but I did not stick around. My life, I admit, was pretty awesome. I got to read, study English, hang out with my friends, go out to parties on the weekends, and was pretty much free from constraints. Yet, I felt I was missing something. I no longer felt the rush of passion when figuring out the underlying meanings behind the characters' motives and how the author's every feeling affected the writing of their works. Every day soon felt like a repetition of the day before, nothing was new. It was like living in The Giver. Everyone had their own job, their own function in life. Campus never seemed to change, everything was planned, scheduled, perfect.

Again, I began to feel that constricting feeling in my lungs. I felt surrounded by nothingness. Trapped. I searched for escape. Dragging Sarah to shady bars, helping Carrie cut apart cadavers, practicing rugby with Tommy, and creeping around with Ellie no longer were sufficient distractions. I couldn't help but think my life had taken another downward turn. This emptiness gave me a warning feeling, like that of six months ago. After days, weeks, and months of therapy; nights of horrifying terrors; weekends spent in the hospital; fights with Edward, I could no longer pretend. The emotional bandages my Forks family had given me did not heal the cuts and bruises. They couldn't fix me and they were suffocating me. The claustrophobia that their hovering gave me was unbearable. I felt like a 5-year-old again and could no longer go anywhere without a chaperone. Their fear of my breakdown ultimately led to just that. My crushing breakup with Edward killed me on the inside. I was hollow, like those men T.S. Eliot was so fond of. So I left.

Again, I found myself running. Currently on a bus that was shuttling its way down the streets of England. That suffocating feeling led me to where I am today. I immediately began to search for reasons to escape the continent. I visited the Study Abroad building and found a request on the bulletin board, asking for an American student to spend a semester in England to experience the practices of law firms abroad as an intern. Predictably, I jumped at the chance. It was something new, different, and something that I realized I had a passion for. Putting deserving criminals behind bars and making sure they stayed there was exactly what I wanted to do. I had taken an introductory course, You and the Law, in my high school to "broaden my horizons," as my counselor had so kindly put it when urging me to take a class other than another AP English. All it took was the spark, the opportunity, and I was there.

Soon, I found myself on the edge of Berthford, wherever that is, in West Yorkshire on Victoria Street. It's ironic because the woman who I was meeting was named Victoria Redford. Before calling V & V Law, I had made sure to research as much as I could on Ms. Redford. Her firm was rather successful and very focused on criminal law, which I was very enthused about. Once I worked up the guts to call her, I realized that I really wanted this to work out, I was depending on it. After a rather brief conversation with Victoria, I already liked her. She didn't scoff at my lack of experience or meager knowledge of due process, etc. and easily asked me to join her.

I was ecstatic, but my SET (what I had begun calling Sarah, Tommy, and Ellie, much to their chagrin) group wasn't so happy. They were happy that I finally found something that really meant something to me, but I could taste the disappointment in the air. They didn't want me to leave and neither did I, except that niggling girl in the back of my head told me I needed this. I needed to be on my own for a bit, I needed to break out of my shell, I needed to truly start over. It was a brief goodbye because I knew I would return in six months and would keep in touch with them weekly. Thank god for modern technology. I reminded them, oh about every hour, that I would be available through cell, skype, twitter, and facebook. They ignored me and cried "woe is me" until the sun came up.

Looking at my cell, I realized that I was two hours early for our meeting, despite the time I spent setting up the flat I rented. Deciding to get acquainted with local life, I took a stroll. At a quaint little cafe, Selena's, I spotted down Victoria Street, I had tea, like a proper Brit, and a muffin. While people-watching, I spied an old-fashioned barber shop. Finishing up my muffin and downing the last of my tea, I Alice-like skipped down the street to the barber. _No, don't think of _them_ and Forks. It will only lead to bad places_.

As I opened the door, bells hanging over the door chimed, notifying the workers of my presence. Glancing around in tourist-y wonder, I saw the classically poised shelves of hair products. Along the wall, booths were set up, one for each hairdresser, facing glaringly large mirrors. The tell-tale hair dryers that you always see old women that gossip behind their magazines seated under lined the back wall. A couple locals were seated in some booths, chatting with the girls styling their hair. The lightly hair-covered tiles of the floor gave the shop a musty, small town, familial feeling that made my heart ache for home. But this was nothing like Forks, Washington. It was something much older and cherished; I could never hope to have this kind of feeling.

A throat cleared. Turning to the aforementioned throat, I realized I had been standing in the middle of the entrance with my mouth gaping like an idiot as I took in my surroundings. The throat-clearer had a cross of a bored and amused expression on his face. _Oh gosh, what a gorgeous face… No, last time you met a gorgeous face, bad things happened._ Coaching my face into a veil of indignation, I looked straight at him.

"I'm sorry, is something funny?" I asked calmly.

"No, mum. Pardon me, can I help you?" he chuckled. _Damn Brits and their sexy accents…_

"Actually, I was thinking of a new style. New place, new look?" Taking a strand of my long, wavy chestnut hair in my hand, I gave it a disgusted look. I was tired of the old _Bella_. I was Izzy now and Izzy needed a new look.

"Ah, yes, I understand. I'm sure we can find something you would like," he replied courteously, handing me a style book. After flipping through, I finally chose. It was short, shoulder-length that is, and layered in a volume-intensifying way. It also was light brown with crimson highlights.

"This one," I demanded, showing the man the page

"That would look stunning on you," he said sweetly.

"Aw, please don't flatter me. It's unnecessary," I said politely. Why would this beautiful man flirt with me when I was just… me?

"But you would look stunning. Now let me take you to a booth so we can chop off all this lovely hair," he murmured, sweeping his hand and ushering me forward.

"Actually, I would also like it dyed as well."

"What color?" he asked, shocked.

"The same as the picture's."

"Then let's get to it. By the way, my name's Carmine."

* * *

The cut and dye took made the two hours pass quickly as Carmine told me how he came to England, seeing as his name is so obviously Italian. The shop had been his grandfather's and he now managed the place, as well as styled. It was nice to meet someone so down-to-earth and so devoted to their family ties. But I can't think like that, or else my mind would wander back to Edward, and that would lead to bad places. Besides, why think of the past when I can think of beautiful Carmine?

As I passed the windowpanes of other shops on Victoria Street, I couldn't help but stare at my reflection. I definitely looked like a new person; someone who belonged, who had a life, who had something to live for. The new me was incredible and I couldn't wait to meet Victoria.

Outside the building with the swinging sign that stated "V & V Law" was a decorative gate that came to my knees. The building was flanked on either side with similar looking buildings. To me, it looked like all the other buildings that served as apartment buildings, but I could be mistaken. I walked through the gate and was greeted at the door by a rather curvy redhead. Her hair was all curls that flew around her head in a crazed, but somehow stylish, way. Her bright green eyes welcomed me as she showed me in.

"Hi, I'm Victoria Redford, and you must be Isabella Swan," she greeted.

"You can call me, Izzy," I replied.

"Yes, those of use with old-fashioned names must abbreviate them, lest we attract the old geezers. You can call me Tori," she smiled.

"Um, if you don't mind me asking, but if this is your firm, why does the sign say V & V?"

"That's a very reasonable question. I work with a partner, Valencia Torres. But she prefers to be called Val," Tori confided. "She'll be down soon to introduce herself."

"What's upstairs?" I asked, looking around. It seemed that the whole office was downstairs, what could possibly be upstairs?

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, this was originally an apartment building, but we bought the whole place and anyone who works here just lives upstairs and the downstairs is the office. So I'll show you your room later," she said cheerily.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to go tell my landlord that I won't be needing my flat anymore."

"Yes, just give me the number of where you're staying and I'll do my lawyer thing and settle the whole situation. Men find me rather… persuasive," she winked.

"Thank you, but there's no need. I'm sure I can handle him, he's not that stubborn."

"Oh, posh! Can't you let me have a little fun?"

"Never, Tori!" a low voice cut in. Joining the voice was a woman whose dark hair flowed down her back in lilting waves that made my old hair look like… well, crap. Her dark eyes were accentuated by her olive complexion and she was rather opposite in appearance from Victoria.

"Hi, Isabella, I'm Valencia," she said.

"Call me Izzy."

"Then call me Val," she laughed.

"Val," Tori whined, "she won't let me have a bit of fun!"

"Tori, you have a strange concept of fun. I'm sure Izzy meant well."

"Val, let's go out tonight! We can show Izzy around town!" Victoria offered excitedly.

"I don't know," Valencia hedged.

"But it's been so long!"

"You're right, Tori. I haven't gotten properly spruced up that my wardrobe is getting dusty. Let's take her to a club!"

"Um, I didn't really pack anything appropriate for going out," I tried to explain, hoping that they would drop the idea.

"Then we'll just have to take you shopping! Plenty of time for that!" Victoria bounced.

"Plus, you'll be buying all sorts of stuff while you're with us anyway. England isn't quite like America," Val said. "Or Spain. Or Ireland," she added. _Great_, I thought, _another version of Alice and Rose. And Sarah and Ellie._

* * *

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